


Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines (In Pieces on the Ground)

by Topaz_Eyes



Category: X Company
Genre: Angst, Clouded judgement, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief, Guilt, Late Night Confessionals, Late Night Conversations, Loneliness, Making Do With Who You've Got, Missing Scene, Mourning, One Night Stands, Questionable Choices, The Difference Between Want and Need, They Both Fantasize Other People, Wanting someone you can't have, cheating but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topaz_Eyes/pseuds/Topaz_Eyes
Summary: “We haven’t talked very much at all these last few weeks about anything that’s happened,” she began.  “We should catch up.”
Relationships: Aurora Luft/Neil Mackay, background Alfred Graves/Aurora Luft, background Neil Mackay/Miri
Kudos: 1





	Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines (In Pieces on the Ground)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Fire And Rain,” music and lyrics by James Taylor, 1970. Missing scene for s2e10, “August 19th.” Also references s2e7, “La Vérité Vous Rendra Libre.”

That first night after Dieppe, back in their Paris safehouse, Aurora repressed a frustrated sigh as she closed the door to Alfred’s bedroom.

That certainly didn’t go as planned, she thought with profound disappointment. She’d intended to spend the rest of the night with Alfred after her late-evening watch ended at two, happy enough just to lie side-by-side holding hands and drift off revelling in his presence. When she let herself into his bedroom to join him, however, she found Alfred moaning and thrashing on top of the bedcovers, trapped in a vivid nightmare.

Her heart sank as she rushed to him and tried to rouse him. From the sound of it, he was reliving every detail of seeing Faber hold a gun to her head earlier that afternoon: the terror in Aurora’s eyes, the sheer hatred that twisted the Oberfuhrer’s face, his own fear and helplessness. Coupled with his grief over Tom, she’d already wondered if or when something like this was going to happen, though she’d hoped not.

Either way, Alfred’s panic attack wouldn’t settle until Aurora gave him a sedative from her compact. She remained by his side until he dropped off, smoothing the hair off his forehead. He would be out for at least a few hours; she reluctantly decided she didn’t need to stay any longer.

More than a little unsettled by the turn of events, Aurora left Alfred sleeping to check on Harry who slept a few steps down the hall. She paused for a minute at Harry’s closed door, listening for any signs of distress within. All sounded quiet enough inside; Harry must either be dead to the world, or a very good possum. Either way, she didn’t want to disturb him if she could help it. She opened the door a crack, just far enough to peek in to check on him.

Facing the door, Harry’s eyes were closed, and he didn’t even budge at the tiny squeak of the door hinge; his breathing was slow and even. Good, she thought; she would let exhaustion do its work for him. She closed the door again, making sure the door latched without a sound.

At least two members of the team were settled in. There was no use heading to bed herself now; she’d awakened fully by the time Alfred’s sedative took effect. She decided to check up on Neil instead; she shivered with a chill in the hall, and pulled her cardigan tighter around her. Treading in stockinged feet, she wandered towards the dimly-lit front room, where Neil kept early morning watch.

Normally Tom was assigned this half of the graveyard shift, but that was impossible now. Neil sat in the faded chintz armchair in the corner of the room, a book and his Luger balanced on his lap. She hitched against the door frame, reluctant to intrude on Neil’s space. The book was open about halfway through, but she doubted he’d read any of it.

All of them were grieving in their own way; it had been one hell of a day. They hadn’t only lost Tom; they were down too many souls to count: George and Conrad; the four young Canadian soldiers who’d accompanied Alfred to Pour de Lys; all the dead and wounded and captured boys on the beaches at Dieppe… and Miri was nowhere to be found.

She rubbed her temple. Neil had witnessed all the loss and devastation, and he was left grappling with both Tom’s death and Miri’s disappearance. Not knowing Miri's whereabouts was worse, because at least they knew what had happened to everyone else. Neil was valiantly trying to keep himself together, but she suspected he wasn’t doing so well.

And honestly, neither was she. Tom had been her dear friend, too, they’d been together since training, and part of her still reeled over losing René.

She closed her eyes, wishing she could let herself sleep right now. Maybe they all should’ve drunk themselves to oblivion earlier that evening, let alcohol numb their emotions enough to pass out; but she didn’t want them to fight grief and chronic sleep deprivation and a hangover the next morning. Maybe she should have taken one of those pills herself for a few hours of dreamless peace, but it was too close to morning now, she no longer had that luxury. She would have to unwind by some other means. She exhaled, trying to think how.

Neil heard a soft noise like a sigh and looked up from the book he was pretending to read to see Aurora leaning on the side of the door frame to the sitting room.

He glanced at the dial of his wristwatch and frowned, wondering just how long she’d been at the doorway observing without him noticing. That wasn’t good. “How long have you been standing there, Aurora?”

“Not long. Just a minute.”

She looked like she hadn’t been to bed yet. She hadn’t even changed, though she’d ended her watch at two. “So what’re you doing up? It’s not morning yet.”

She shrugged one shoulder, and a half-smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. “I couldn’t sleep. Came to see if you wanted some company.”

Neil closed the book, set it aside on the arm of the chair and moved the Luger onto the end table in front of the lamp. “Sure.” He’d been stuck on the same page for the last twenty minutes anyway.

She didn’t move from the doorway to join him, though. Rather, she stayed put, arms wrapped around her middle, watching him a moment with a thoughtful, if somewhat disquieting, expression on her face.

He’d been on the receiving end of that look more than once; as if she was trying to decide on something that probably wasn’t a good idea. “How's Alfred?” he asked, if only to break the odd, skin-prickling tension that had settled in the room. “Thought I heard him have a rough go of it earlier.”

She stirred from her apparent reverie. “He did, but he’s fine now. I gave him a pill and he's sleeping.”

“And Harry?”

“The same, he’s sound asleep. You know, you should get some rest yourself.”

“I'm on watch ‘til sunrise,” he reminded her gently.

“Right, I knew that.” She looked down at her hands for a moment, thinking what they could do, then looked back at him with a painfully false cheer. “You know, I really want some tea right now,” she said. “I’m going to make some tea. Do you want a cup?”

Not really, he thought, but something was definitely off, and he needed to suss it out. If they needed something to do in the meantime, a cuppa was as a good idea as any. “Yeah, thanks.”

Aurora disappeared from the doorway, her footsteps receding to the next room. Neil listened to her potter around the kitchen: the quiet hiss of water from a tap, the thud of a copper kettle against a hotplate, the clink of china pulled from a cupboard.

Such domestic sounds of a home should have been comforting — they never really did change from place to place, over the countless number of safe houses they’d stayed at. But tonight they sounded harsh, even alien to his ears. He winced once or twice despite the care Aurora took to keep the noise down.

Maybe it was only the time of day that unsettled him. No one in their right mind should be awake now if they could help it; the mantel clock had just chimed four, a stark reminder that there were still more than two hours til sunrise at this time of year.

Maybe it was the fresh, gaping, permanent Tom-shaped absence in their group.

Neil drew his mouth into a thin line and clenched his fists. Don’t go there, he told himself furiously, willing a sudden sting in his eyes to vanish. He’d just managed not to dwell on Tom for an entire half-hour. Don’t…

The moment passed, and Neil heard more rustlings in the kitchen: a spoon clattering against a metal tin, the gurgle of boiled water being poured, the pop of a newly-opened jar. A few minutes later, Aurora returned to the front room, carrying, to his surprise, a proper tea tray, with a teapot, two mugs, and two plates, each holding half a sandwich of bread slathered with black-market butter and strawberry jam.

He smiled with perplexed, though genuine pleasure. “What’s this, now?”

She set the tray down on the low table and sat on the couch opposite, on the other side of the lamp. “It’s tea time somewhere,” she replied, deliberately light-hearted.

“Sure it is. In the Samoan Islands in the Pacific.”

She laughed at that and took the teapot. “We’re just having ours twelve hours early.”

Aurora busied herself with pouring and setting out the tea, passing over a sandwich with precise and careful motions. Neil wasn’t fond of strawberry preserves, nor was he hungry, but he ate anyway, and drank his tea to appease her.

Aurora nibbled on her half of the sandwich, sipping her own drink, her expression pensive between bites as she tried to find a way to crack Neil’s shell. The way he’d broken earlier had made it clear he was fighting more than just Tom’s death and Miri’s disappearance. There was something else too, and she had to find out what.

“Aurora, what’s going on?” Neil asked after a few minutes of strained silence, trying hard to suppress his uneasiness.

She set her mug on the table and sat back against the chesterfield. “We haven’t talked very much at all these last few weeks about anything that’s happened,” she began. “We should catch up.”

He peered at her. “Really. Aurora, this isn’t the time--”

“You know what I mean, Neil.”

They fell silent, and Neil had trouble meeting her gaze then. Aurora could understand his reticence, but she had to get him to confess, without pushing him too far lest he shut her out completely. “I’ll start first,” she offered. She straightened in her seat and clasped her hands on her lap. “You know how I loved René,” she said, “and you know I did what he asked, and that even now I still can't forgive myself for it. I don’t think I can. I don’t think I ever will.”

Neil sighed, remembering the confrontation in the Dieppe schoolhouse after Aurora had arrived late to their rendezvous. “René wasn't your fault,” he said, “you can’t blame yourself, it was the only thing you could have done at the time. But not telling us earlier, Aurora, when we could’ve helped you if we’d known--”

“I know. That was my fault. I take full responsibility.”

“You almost lost your command there because of it. Harry and Tom were going to vote against you at the schoolhouse.”

Aurora startled at that. “Really? Tom too?” she whispered, stunned. That she hadn’t expected.

“Didn’t want to tell you.” Neil fidgeted in his chair. “Conrad wanted nothing to do with it. George and Miri decided to keep you on.”

Aurora shook her head as she worked it through. “But you didn’t take a vote.”

Neil shrugged. “George pulled rank, refused to allow it.” At Aurora’s raised eyebrow, he snorted, and added, “He said, and I quote, ‘Whatever Miri thinks, I trust her judgment most out of the lot of you.’ You impressed Miri, that was good enough for him.”

Aurora sighed, realizing how much she owed George and Conrad and Miri, though there was nothing she could do for them. “How would you have voted?”

Neil stared at her, dumbfounded. “Chain of command, Aurora,” he said when he recovered, “you’re our sergeant, no vote needed.”

“As I recall you were just as skeptical as Harry when I first mentioned Faber might help us.”

“Doesn’t mean I thought turning Faber was a bad idea then. Specially after what we saw at Dieppe.”

“Except Alfred and I abandoned you.” Aurora folded her arms around her middle against a wave of unwelcome sorrow until it passed. “Maybe if we’d stayed to help--” She began to wring her hands.

Neil tensed, knowing exactly where this road led, because he was fighting hard – and failing badly – not to trip down it himself. “You needed to go, you had to try to bring Faber over to our side.”

“And we couldn’t turn him. We failed. It was for nothing.” Her voice caught, and dropped to a despairing whisper. “We lost Tom for nothing.”

Neil outright scowled at her. “Don’t say that.”

Aurora stood her ground, however, meeting his glare with one of her own. He drew a breath, forced himself to remain calm; he had to push his next words past a sudden lump in his throat. “Tom knew the risks. We all agreed to it. It’s what he wanted, end of.”

He cleared his throat at her skeptical frown. “Listen, even if everything went perfect for us at Dieppe and you with Faber, Tom still would’ve died.” Christ he sounded too much like Harry there, but it was the only way he could justify Tom’s death in his mind without wanting to punch something. “We can’t – we can’t focus on what ifs, Aurora. Tom died, we gotta move on without him.”

He hated how he sounded like he was begging, and he tried not to squirm under her scrutiny. It was clear she knew there was much more to it. It was like she wanted a full confession: God knew how he’d fucked up the mission. He was the reason why they’d lost most of their fighters in the Varèges camp raid.

For all that mattered, he might as well have pushed Tom off the fucking cliff himself.

He did not want to share any of it with Aurora in the moment. She didn’t need to carry the extra burden, he thought. If he started to tell her now, he might never stop and she needed him to be strong for her, not a blubbering mess again. He forced all his misery back down into a smouldering ball behind his heart.

“What more do you want me to say?” he asked instead, defensive.

Aurora’s face fell. Neil was right, they’d all decided as a team that turning Faber was more important than disabling the radio station at Pour de Lys. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d personally signed off on Tom’s death warrant by leaving Tom, Neil, and Harry on their own. Maybe if she and Alfred had been successful… but she still couldn’t justify the cost they’d paid.

And Neil was still not telling her everything. “I can’t order you to confide in me,” she said, “so I won’t. But I need to know—”

She trailed off, looked away and pursed her lips together, bracing herself against another sudden wave of grief that threatened to force her right over the edge. This is ridiculous, she thought desperately. She shouldn’t feel shattered into pieces like this.

She certainly shouldn’t be dragging Neil down with her when he was struggling to deal too. Nor should she make him feel worse by dredging it all up again.

But she couldn’t help it; when she turned to look at him, a tear escaped down one cheek, then a second, despite herself. “I just need to know I’m not alone right now.”

Neil shook his head. _‘Course you’re not alone,_ he thought, _don’t be stupid_ ; he dared not say it aloud though, because now was not the time to be an arsehole. They hadn’t even begun to recover from recent events. They were still picking themselves up, trying to carry on in spite of everything.

But Aurora continued to wait on his reply, and he couldn’t trust himself to say anything that wouldn’t hurt her more. So instead, he rose from his armchair and crossed the two steps to where she sat on the couch, and he reached for her hands.

“Come here,” Neil said softly. He pulled Aurora up to standing and wrapped her in a loose embrace. “You’re not alone.”

Aurora didn’t return his hug, but she sighed and huddled against him, resting her head in the crook between his shoulder and collarbone. Hearing Neil’s admission helped settle the roiling storm that threatened to spill past the floodgates. Misery loves company, she thought; oddly, it helped her feel a little better.

Yeah, this he could offer her, Neil decided, and thank God it seemed to be the right call. If the front of his shirt and waistcoat became damp in the meantime, he said nothing about it. It had only been a few hours ago when he’d needed to draw on her strength as his world crumbled under the weight of Tom’s death so he reckoned he owed her this one.

And he had to admit holding Aurora comforted him too. Even if she only leaned against him, Aurora’s warmth and presence was enough to push back the keen absence of Tom and Miri, if only by a little.

After a few moments, they began to sway to the slow beat of the mantel clock ticking. Aurora felt absurdly grateful that Neil would let her fall apart like this. Sometimes she forgot she could depend on him for support. He was the rock of the team, solid and safe. She didn’t need to be strong in the moment; she didn’t need to be in control, at least as long as he was here.

As they swayed, the thought crystallized from the seething mass of conflicted emotions swirling in her head.

Would it be so wrong to ask him, Aurora mused.

Or was what she wanted simply her own exhaustion and loneliness talking, her pain and guilt driving her to contemplate this kind of distraction.

Who else could she turn to?

Certainly not Harry, perish the thought, and Alfred was simply in no position to help her. Alfred would want to help, but even if he were available, their relationship was still too fragile. They were both just beginning to grasp the enormity of what they meant to each other; she couldn’t afford to rush him, and the timing couldn’t be worse. She was sure that what she wanted tonight would push him beyond his current ability to cope.

Which left…

Neil could use something to take his mind off everything for awhile, and he probably wouldn’t need much convincing if she countered his misgivings. But she would also be taking advantage and she had no right to do that. Not only because she was his sergeant; not only because he was still grieving Tom.

But also because Miri had not been heard from since Dieppe. While Miri was fully capable of taking care of herself, she was also a Roma woman on her own and a known member of a resistance cell. The longer they waited to find her, the worse her chances of survival if she hadn’t already been captured and executed.

Neil hadn’t said a word to Aurora, but he didn’t need to.

All of it added up to a terrible idea. She should stop this madness now, Aurora thought. She should extricate herself, bid Neil good night and go wrestle her demons by herself, with or without a bottle of wine, hangover be damned.

Except she couldn’t bring herself to leave right now; couldn’t bear to leave the shelter she’d just found with Neil. The longer she fought, the more defenceless she felt against the weight of the day just waiting to crush her. She couldn’t hold that back by herself much longer.

Something had to give. If they had to fall, at least they could fall together.

Aurora shifted in his arms. Neil stirred from a half-trance, released her, and took a half-step back. “All right now?” he asked.

Aurora glanced away for a brief moment, then steeled herself; silently imploring him to understand why she was doing it, she stepped forward, framed his cheeks in her hands, and kissed Neil full on the lips.

Neil’s eyes widened with the contact and he froze for a second. What the fucking hell?

Yet to his own surprise, he didn’t push her away.

Instead, once the shock of contact passed, Neil found himself returning her kiss, though not with any real passion. It was just a physical reaction, he reasoned, an automatic reflex to her lips touching his; one borne more of mutual need for solace than desire.

Distantly he noted how she tasted of salt, and jam, and tea. He had no business knowing that, it wasn’t his place; just as he knew he shouldn’t return her kiss, either. Yet here they were, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to stop.

Aurora slid her lips against Neil’s with barely contained hunger. Of course this was wrong, she was crossing every personal and professional line, she should step back and apologize, leave the room and transmit her resignation to the Camp immediately. But he wasn’t refusing her advance, which meant a part of him wanted this too. That was all she needed. Aurora ended the kiss, and she pulled back, biting her lower lip to keep it from quivering as she waited for him to recover.

Neil opened his eyes, missing the pressure of her mouth on his. He wasn’t sure how to ask what was going on—but when he looked at her, something had settled in Aurora’s features, as if he’d just passed a test for which only she knew the question being asked. Before he could ask her to explain, she nodded to herself and moved in again to start a deeper, longer kiss.

Aurora threaded her fingers through the wiry curls at his temples and behind his ears. Without thinking, Neil moaned low in his throat and pulled her body flush against him. She hummed in satisfaction at his reaction; in turn he eased her mouth open to twine his tongue around hers. His eyes fluttered closed again, and for a minute he allowed himself just to be in the moment.

Let something, anything else shoulder this fucking war and the weight of their loss for a bit, he thought. This was what really mattered: Aurora’s lips were pliant, her soft and willing body fully moulded to his, and he ached with the sudden longing. He _wanted_ –

Christ, how he _needed_ this kind of comfort right now, to lose himself in her arms and forget the last twenty-four hours. He never once considered he’d share it with Aurora; he had no clue why she was coming on to him like this. But _Jesus_ , here they were, and it’d be so bloody easy to lower Aurora down onto the couch cushions right now and take what she was offering.

Did it matter if Aurora were a few inches taller, or slender instead of compact, or if she didn’t fit against him quite the same way Miri had —

Of course it mattered, for too many reasons to count. With great effort he broke the kiss, lowered her hands; stepped back and exhaled shakily, trying to regain some semblance of equilibrium.

“Aurora…”

She slid her hands up his arms to his shoulders, then over the corduroy of his waistcoat, where she toyed with the topmost button a few seconds before unfastening it.

“We shouldn't do this,” he murmured, his voice rough. Shagging one’s sergeant and CO was always a bad idea, not to mention against the rules. Worse, Alfred or Harry could walk in on them at any time. How in hell would they explain that one?

Mainly, how would they explain to Alfred — because Neil wasn’t stupid. He knew where things were headed between Alfred and Aurora. The last thing he wanted was to betray them.

“We shouldn't do a lot of things,” Aurora replied, her fingers unceasing. She peeled off the waistcoat, tossed it aside, and started on his shirt, nimbly flying over the buttons there. “We do them anyway.”

“What about Harry? What about Alfred?” To Neil’s continuing bemusement, however, he made no move to stop her. He simply observed her push each shirt button through its buttonhole, one by one by one.

“Alfred’s not ready for this right now,” Aurora said tightly. “He’d be too overwhelmed to manage.”

She parted the plackets of his shirt, glided her palms underneath the cotton over the warm, firm skin of his chest. Neil's eyes fluttered closed again at the touch, arousal growing a second time despite himself.

“But you think I can--?”

“I trust you, Neil.” She grabbed his hands, which had dropped to his sides, and brought them up to her heart. “There’s no one else —”

“Who knows what we're going through,” Neil finished for her. He opened his eyes to a tremulous half-smile and a slight affirming nod. “Is this what it’s about, then? Trying to forget?”

“Yes.”

 _Trying to forget._ God, that sounded fantastic right now. Neil exhaled a shaky sigh, and slowly, blankly, he nodded in acquiescence. Aurora released his hands; frozen in place, he focused his gaze on what he could see of Aurora's face, on her frown of concentration as she pulled the braces off his shoulders and unfastened the button flies of his trousers. He swallowed as she tugged his trousers and boxers over his hips, down past his knees.

Aurora pressed down on his shoulders until he sank onto the cushion behind him, his arms resting at his sides. He continued to watch her as she slid the sheath holding her knife off her thigh. She withdrew a small paper packet from inside, reached out to take his hand, and deposited it in his palm.

Neil closed his hand around the condom in its wrapper. “A sheath in a sheath?” he said, amused. “Interesting place to keep it.”

Aurora giggled outright. He huffed a quick laugh too, which broke the tension somewhat; he donned the condom while Aurora shimmied out of her cardigan and knickers. She unzipped the bodice of her dress and let it fall to her waist, exposing her arms and the outline of her breasts under her camisole. Neil remained still when she knelt to straddle his lap and spread her skirt to cover them. Only when she placed her hands back on his shoulders to balance herself did he touch her again, steadying her hips through the layers of dress and slip, rayon and viscose.

Aurora avoided his gaze now, grateful for the shadows that obscured much of their view of each other. Sex like this was best done in the dark. They rocked together a few moments, Aurora brushing him just enough to bring them fully ready. He tilted his head back against the top of the couch, vision adjusting to the dim light, and tried to think only about the physical pleasure of the touch, not on who was doing this to him, nor why; nor on the little voice of his conscience whispering how big a mistake they both were about to make. That voice sounded ironically like Tom; he almost laughed at that.

But he had to be sure. He raised his head, tried to catch her eye. “Are you certain about this?”

“Mmm hmm.” Aurora nodded, but she still didn’t look at him, rather nibbling at her lower lip.

She was having second thoughts too, then, he thought. _Offer a way out_ , that little voice urged.

“Aurora, we don't have to—” he began.

That only galvanized her resolve. She did look at him then, her gaze hard and sharp as flint. “Sshh,” she said, laying a finger on his lips, “Neil. It’s all right. It’ll be all right.”

Neil opened his mouth to speak, but before he could reply, she lowered herself down all the way, taking him in to the root.

 _Jesus Christ._ Neil couldn’t help but groan and thrust upwards as she slid home. His mind reeled with the sensation of slick heat enveloping him; he automatically raised his arms to embrace her, the soft swell of her breasts pressing on his chest.

“Don't talk,” Aurora whispered against his ear as she began to move against him, “don’t think. Just let yourself _feel_.”

They fell silent then, under the spell of the hushed darkness of the room. Neil focused inwards, on the weight of Aurora in his lap, the softness of her lips on his, the smoothness of her skin under his calloused fingertips; searched for a compatible tempo with her body pulsing around him. He nuzzled up and down the column of her neck, guiding himself by Aurora’s soft gasps of approval, doing his best to simply be.

Aurora walked her mind back to all the times she and Alfred had shared a connection since they’d met; reliving all the touches and soft words that culminated with their kiss in front of the mirror earlier that day. She recalled the times when she was alone and thought of Alfred; from there it was easy to imagine that she was straddled on Alfred’s lap right now. That it was Alfred who caressed her shoulders and back, who cupped each breast reverently in his slender palm; Alfred who thrust upwards towards her centre, who traced the lines of her throat and jaw and ear with his lips until she was enveloped in nothing but a swirling haze of heated pleasure rising outwards from her core.

In the meantime, Neil groaned at the sensation of Aurora riding him, her muscles clenching and releasing in long, rolling waves. This was exactly what he was craving tonight, the feeling of falling, of being lost in Aurora’s body as he plunged headlong towards oblivion. It felt bloody _brilliant_ and _fuck_ , he would do anything to make this last, whatever it took to keep their combined guilt and despair at bay--

Until one look at the fierce concentration on her face made it clear that he wasn’t the man Aurora was making love with right now.

 _Bloody hell._ He stilled briefly as the reality dawned.

That was the only reason why he was here, wasn’t it? She needed a warm body, a stand-in for someone she couldn’t have, and it didn’t really matter who that was.

Of course he knew who she really envisioned: taller, slender, with tapered and graceful hands where his were broad and blunt.

At any other time he would have been insulted.

Instead he felt, oddly enough, overwhelming relief. He loved Aurora deeply, as a friend and fellow comrade-in-arms; but he wasn’t _in_ love with her, never had been. And vice versa.

Aurora losing herself in a fantasy with Alfred meant Neil didn’t need to worry that they were betraying him. They weren’t, not really; as far as Aurora was concerned, she was shagging Alfred, and he was fully okay with that.

Hell, he’d made far worse mistakes; tonight was just something else to add to the growing list of necessary things they’d both had to do in the war just to survive. In the light of what he’d done, this barely counted.

Neil followed her lead, then, matched her pace, stroked up and down her arms and back; made his kisses short and demanding when she swooped in, lingering when she hovered; angled himself so she could grind against him while he thrust to maximize her pleasure. From there, it didn’t take long until her rhythm grew erratic and she rubbed against him desperately, until she dug half-moon circles into his back with her fingernails and she leaned her forehead on his shoulder.

“Alfred,” she gasped, high and reedy, “Alfred, _please_ —”

There it was, the crux. Neil rolled his hips, arched up once, twice. Aurora shuddered, and she clung tight to Neil as she came hard and fast and silent around him.

Neil kissed her through her climax, thinking how he did not, would not fault Aurora for it. He’d learned the difference between want and need a long time ago; but Alfred wasn’t ready, and Miri wasn’t here. If things were different, he and Aurora wouldn’t be here either.

But they were, and it really was that simple in the end, turning to each other like this for relief in the light of everything.

And freeing, too, knowing Aurora trusted him enough to lose herself in him. Because he could let go too, and know that she would catch him when he fell.

He closed his eyes as Aurora’s shudders faded, and from there he envisioned Miri on his lap, their first time back in his tent in the woods near Varèges; remembering how her fragrance enveloped him like a mist and the spun lace of her hair tumbled through his fingers. In the canvas-filtered early evening sun he’d kissed Miri’s cheeks, her eyelids, back down to her lips. After their breakup he’d never dreamed he’d have this feeling back again in his lifetime, the look on Miri’s face, her mouth an ‘o’ of equal parts surprise and bliss when he entered her the first time. Miri had raked her fingernails down his back, around his sides and up his chest as he dragged his lips along her throat and collarbone, tasted the salt on her skin; she’d rocked her hips just so to match him, until she’d stilled and clenched and cried out into his neck. After, sheathed in Miri’s warmth, he’d buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent as the waves rolled over, higher and higher, until they peaked and crashed — and he let himself be pulled under, gasping his release with Miri’s name on his lips.

Aurora stared into the near-darkness behind them, feeling the weight of the last few days threaten to descend again as Neil’s breathing slowed and the last moments of his tortured bliss slipped away. The next thing she knew, he was trembling and she embraced him, rubbing small, comforting circles on his upper back through his shirt. “I’m sorry,” Aurora whispered into his hair, “I’m sorry, Neil, that wasn’t fair.”

“Don’t be.” Only then did Neil become aware of the wetness on his cheeks, and the stark realization that he couldn’t keep his secret from Aurora any longer. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he said, his reply muffled in the crook between Aurora’s neck and shoulder. “It was me.”

Aurora paused her ministrations, blinking as she tried to suss out what Neil meant. “What do you mean it was you? Neil, what--?”

Neil pulled back from her, his eyes bleak. “I didn’t stop Martin. Caught him leaving, he said he was scared. I let him escape. The massacre, Tom, George, Conrad, Miri. They’re all on me.”

She sighed: so that was it. “Martin was going to betray us whether you stopped him or not,” she said after a long moment.

Neil met her gaze, his eyes glittering. “That’s not the point. I didn’t stop him, I let him go.” He drew a deep breath. “So what’s it gonna be, Aurora?” he asked huskily. “Court martial? Discharge?”

One of them should have been dead after six weeks in the field, she thought, yet here they were six months later. By rights, Neil should be punished for his lapse of judgment; but René and Tom were gone and she simply couldn’t afford to lose one more friend she loved. “I need you here, Neil,” she said. She leaned her forehead against his. “Any one of us would have done the same.” It was cold comfort at best, but it would have to do.

Neil sniffed and willed himself to relax as he tried to pull himself together. He was reluctant to move for a moment, or open his eyes. He’d wanted to believe Martin’s innocence until shit hit the fan. Christ but Miri had been right about him going soft. But Miri had gone missing in Dieppe before he’d had any chance to apologize to her or say goodbye.

“We have to find Miri,” he rasped.

Aurora pulled back to regard him with a soft, knowing gaze. “Miri's a survivor, Neil, she won’t give up. We'll find her, I promise. Do whatever you need to bring her back.”

He nodded, his gaze steady. “I'll protect Alfred, Aurora. Harry, too. With my life. Whatever it takes,” Neil replied, “you have my word.”

Aurora's lips curved in a watery smile. “Thank you.”

Neil smoothed a fall of hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear, then cleared his throat. “Should get going before the others wake up to see us.”

“Of course.” Aurora rose off Neil’s lap, stood, and turned away so each would have a bit of privacy to put themselves back together. They quickly cleaned up and straightened their clothing; outside, the first pink streaks of daylight were visible beyond the curtained windows.

When they faced each other again, Aurora had a sombre but determined look on her features. “We can’t ever talk about what happened tonight with anyone,” Aurora said, “I’m sure you know why.”

“Like it never happened,” Neil agreed, “understood.” He thought he honestly would have been more surprised if she’d said otherwise. “Time we moved on.”

Aurora exhaled with relief. “Good. I’m so grateful you’re here with us, Neil,” she added, “I don’t know what we would’ve done without you on the team. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Neil gave her a small half-smile of acknowledgement. “We’ll get through this,” Neil replied, “just need some time, yeah?”

“We will,” she agreed; with that the last vestige of her aching vulnerability bled away; leaving a deep sadness, but she could deal with that; what counted was that she finally felt back in control of herself. “Let’s see where we should go from here.”


End file.
